Mine
by Profiling Hotly
Summary: After a long case and a lot of miscommunication, the last thing Aaron wanted was to drag his wife to a night of bureaucratic politics. How long can he contain his possessiveness and usually ironcast self-control?


**A note: I am a long time lurker, first time writer. I've spent countless hours reading Criminal Minds Fanfiction and am so very thankful for it. A long time ago I shipped _Demily, _and while I still believe there is chemistry between those two characters, the content on this site made me fall in love with Aaron Hotchner's character and helped me to very thoroughly understand the basis for shipping _Hotly. _So this is my first ever piece of fanfiction. Reviews are more than welcome, just please be kind. This story leans more toward being in the AU category. Emily and Hotch are married. The FBI apparently have somehow accepted that fact. I would place this story as being somewhere in season eight if Emily had never left the BAU. This is probably going to be a two-shot, potentially a three-shot. But for now, Peace x**

* * *

Aaron gripped his wife's waist tightly as they entered the crowded ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Virginia. He felt her tense under his firm grasp and he scowled slightly to himself- this was going to be a very long evening. Tightening his grip on her even further he directed the raven haired beauty through the crowded room of people, simultaneously focusing on avoiding several high profile agents, notably their section chief Erin Strauss, whilst trying to maintain a relatively stoic façade.

As they finally inched closer toward the bar and their awaiting friends he felt her begin to struggle against his possessive hold. He stopped abruptly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her arm as he turned her to face him. His expression remained neutral, not wanting to cause a scene. Yet his eyes were dark and fiery, betraying the cool front he was attempting to keep.

"Enough Emily." he commanded sternly, his eyes boring into hers.

She inched her body as far away from his as was possible, her frustration growing quickly as she realised how little physical control she had in this situation.

"Do _NOT_ Emily me." she spat stubbornly, raising her head to meet his face, glaring at him defiantly.

"Emily. I will not spend this entire evening with our friends, a group of highly trained behavioural analysts, making bets as to why my fuming wife is ignoring m-"

"Don't you _DARE_ start acting like the victim. If you weren't being such a chauvinistic, sexist pig then I wouldn't be fumin-"

He suddenly pulled her flush against him, his lips crashing onto hers ferociously swallowing her words as his rough calloused hand pushed against the small of her back, keeping her in place. He was seething, it had been quite a while since they'd had such an aggressive fight but he knew if he didn't act soon they were about to both lose all sense of decorum and draw a lot of attention to themselves, and neither of their careers could afford that. He felt the struggle in her rigid body, the fight between lust and rage running through her. Foreseeing her attempt at resistance he pushed her harder against him, slipping his tongue into her mouth without waiting for permission. His iron cast self-control was being tested, forcing him to ignore the own lustful warmth starting to pool through his body. He felt her groan loudly in anger as her sharp fingernails dug into chest and she began to reciprocate the kiss.

After ensuring that he had assaulted her mouth long enough for her to have lost her breath, and not be able to continue her escalating rant against his earlier behaviour, he pulled his lips away, still holding her steadfast against him, their faces only inches apart.

"Enough." he commanded once more, placing a gentler kiss on her soft lips.

"If you so desire we can recommence this ugh…" he stopped, the tiniest of sadistic smirks teetering on the edge of his thin lips "…discussion, later."

And with that he flipped her round again, reclaiming his hold of her waist and walking them once more toward their friends.

Emily tried to keep her body relaxed as she allowed her eyes to close momentarily as they walked, she internally screamed at him in rage. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so mad and it was taking every inch of self-control and long-winded childhood training of "keeping face" to not turn around and left hook her husband straight in the jaw.

Logically, she_ knew_ that his behaviour tonight was a simple culmination of several unfortunate circumstances. She _knew_ how much he had struggled all week: after a long week on a case where she had been very openly propositioned and man-handled by several LEOs, after coming home from the case to find flowers sitting at her desk, sent by none other than Clyde Easter with his second suggestion at dinner as a guise for another attempt at offering her a job in London, and after the third week had passed since they'd last had sex. She _knew_ his primal need to assert his alpha-male possessive dominance was running at an all time high. These things she logically _knew. _

But that didn't stop her from being pissed.

Shitty week or not, he had no right to tell her what she could and couldn't wear. She could handle his hovering, she generally found his possessive nature endearing. But tonight, he had definitely crossed the line.

* * *

_**An hour earlier**_

_Aaron sat on the leather armchair in the corner of their hotel room looking over some rather dull paperwork. He checked his watch for the second time in the past five minutes, anxious about how late they already were. _

"_Emily we need to go NOW," he stressed a little tersely, calling out to her in the bathroom. _

_They had only arrived back from their past case a few hours before hand and hadn't really had a moment to debrief. They had swung by the office to pick up case files straight after flying in, Aaron choosing to ignore the ridiculously grandiose bouquet of flowers on Emily's desk. Then they'd only stopped home to grab their clothes, before driving straight to the hotel. They had a high level cross intelligence and law enforcement function to go to at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. Aaron had spent a significant amount of time that morning arguing with Strauss on the phone, trying and failing to get his team excused from having to attend. They were all exhausted and he felt awful to have to drag them to a long night of bureaucratic politics. So he'd booked Emily and himself a room there as a treat, trying to at least make the most of an otherwise unpleasant evening. _

_It had been a particularly trying case for Emily and Aaron working together as a couple and things had grown a little tense between them. They were yet to have a full-blown argument about anything, but Aaron held onto that sentiment loosely, knowing how tired and cranky they both were he had the gut feeling it wouldn't be long. Especially if she wasn't ready to leave in the next two minutes. _

"_EMILY NOW" he yelled a little louder, getting up from his seat to see what was holding his wife up. _

"_Aaron I'm just finishing my ha-" she began._

_He stopped in the doorway before his feet hit the tiles, taking in the vision of his wife and suddenly feeling very overwhelmed by an irrational mix of emotion: anger, arousal, frustration and possessiveness all at once._

_His eyes turned a deep black and his eyebrows knitted together in firm disapproval. _

"_No." he simply stated, an almost feral look contorting his face._

_Emily was presently oblivious to her husband's growing rage as her attention was fixed on curling the last sections of her hair. _

"_What __**is**__ the matter Aaron?" she asked somewhat distracted as she bent down to pick up a bobby pin from the floor. _

_Aaron watched as her long elegant form bent down to retrieve the clip. The dress she wore was a tight black floor length dress that clung to every curve of her sexy body. As she bent down the thigh high slit made his breath hitch as her long creamy white legs suddenly appeared. Standing up to finally face him, her entire form on display, he took her in completely. Deep v-neckline, her back exposed by the sheer lace, red lipstick and gently curled hair. He felt his body growing hot as his eyes unashamedly took her in. _

"_You can't wear that dress," he said hoarsely. _

"_Excuse me?" she exclaimed, glaring at him as she finally began to comprehend the extent of his emotional irrationality at this point._

"_Emily, we're not arguing about this. Chang-"_

"_Last time I checked, you only got to order me around in the office. You have no right to tell me what I can and can't wea-"_

_He stormed over, closing the gap between them in seconds, spinning her around and firmly yanking the zipper down._

"_Change. Now."_

_She turned around and slapped him open-palmed across the face. Her eyes indignant. _

"_What the fuck has gotten into you?"_

"_Now" _

"_Why?"_

"_You cannot go to a cross intelligence function dressed like __**that..**__." he waved his arm up and down toward her general vicinity in disgust. "Haven't you had enough male attention for one week? Do you not have any respect for me? __**I**__ am the only one that gets to see that much of you. The __**only**__ one." _

_Emily glowered at him, completely aghast. _

"_Now go. Change. Wear the blue one-"_

"_You're a fucking ass." she spat, pushing past him to find the dress he'd deemed appropriate._

"_Now!"_

* * *

"How is your arm?" Emily enquired gently as Morgan came over to meet them. Her usually confident friend had unmistakable pain etched onto his tired face as he moved. Not surprising, considering that he had only received a stab to his forearm three days earlier.

"It's alright, I'm just feelin' a bit beat," he said sipping on his scotch. He looked to his supervisor, his eyes flickering over the whites of Aaron's knuckles visible as his hand gripped Emily's waist, evident tension in their body language. Looking up to both their faces and observing neutral expressions, he knew better than to prod the elephant in the room.

"How long do we have to hang around at this thing anyway Hotch?" Morgan asked, tugging slightly at the bow tie sitting uncomfortably on his neck.

"Only a few hours, make sure Strauss sees you. We're off rotation until Tuesday and you are out of the field for at least another week." Hotch replied curtly. He felt Emily tensing up again, so he tried to put his current personal irritation aside.

"I am really sorry again to drag you out here Morgan, I tried my best to get you all out of this but Strauss was relentless." He added, carefully applying a much softer edge to his tone.

"Nah it's cool don't worry" Morgan said, flashing one of his trademark grins.

Emily watching the exchange, thankful that Aaron had toned down his rudeness. She now made the conscious decision to use Morgan's presence as a pawn for getting some space.

"Baby, do you think you could get us some drinks?" she asked sweetly, turning her head up to look at her husband through piercing eyes. She had noticed Rossi standing by the bar chatting up a pretty young blonde she believed to be from the Crisis Management Unit and she knew that if she sent Aaron in that general direction she'd at least be left in peace for ten minutes or so.

Hotch met her eyes, his expression still neutral but his rising temper clearly evident in the crinkling at the corner of his dark eyes. "Sure" he said simply, turning to look back at Morgan as he finally released her from his iron grip.

As he moved to walk toward the bar he stopped by Morgan.

"Don't let her wander too far alright?" he requested, walking away without waiting for a response.

Emily rolled her eyes as she watched him walk toward Rossi.

"Do I even want to know?" Morgan asked, placing his glass on a nearby table and coming over to sling his good arm over her shoulder.

"Nope." Emily said, leaning into him slightly as she began to feel all the built up tension leaving her body in a rush. She had been close to Morgan from the moment she first started at the BAU five year ago. She'd quickly learned how similar they were and how innately they both struggled to trust anybody. Ironically, it had helped them both to put a lot of trust in the other's confidence and they'd formed a unique bond, regarding one-another with the platonic affection of close siblings.

"Dance with me?" she pleaded, turning to face Morgan and give him the best puppy eyes she could muster.

Morgan scrunched up his face, running a hand over his bald head as he tried to weigh up the choices he now had before him. He knew Emily was in a fragile mood, but he also knew his boss was currently pretty pissed and very over-tired. He didn't want to rock the boat any further.

"Princess, you know that I'd never turn down the chance to shake it with the prettiest woman in the room…"

Emily chuckled although a pout soon formed on her lips as she foresaw his answer.

"…But I really don't think we should just walk off. He did ask me to not let you go too far." He finished, looking at her a little guiltily.

"No" Emily began defiantly. "He said to not let me _wander _too far, so technically, if you're with me, I'm not wandering."

She pouted further, her beautiful brown eyes forming into the most adorable doe-eyed expression, plucking at just the right heartstrings.

"Fiiiiiine." he relented, holding her hand and directing them toward the dance floor. She smiled as she followed his lead, happy for the first time all evening.

He pulled her onto the floor and gently rested his hand on her back. As they began to sway to the music he looked at her with deep concern.

"Emily, this is only a silly little fight you're having right?" he asked, careful to watch her face as they danced, wanting to make sure whatever response she gave him was truthful.

The lighting in the room was beautiful. There were a lot of original nineteenth century chandeliers hanging, complete with lit candles. The soft light bounced beautifully against the mirrors lined on the walls. Emily closed her eyes for a moment, leaning her head against his chest as they danced. Enjoying the beauty and the serenity of this moment as the big band continued its slow rhythm.

"Emily" Morgan repeated, putting a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying to pull her out of her state of reverie.

"Mmm?"

She looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing as she took a moment to register what he'd asked her a minute beforehand.

"Oh… yeah Morgan, honestly we're fine. We are both just over tired and we have barely had a moment alone in the past few weeks." she met his eyes, trying to reassure him.

He raised an eyebrow, as he slowed their swaying further.

"We're just suffering from a lack of communication I think… and he's uh…" her alabaster face suddenly began to flush pink as she tried to find the most elegant way to explain the main cause of husbands brooding. "He's just a little uh… tightly wound up at the moment." she said, burying her face into her best friends chest and trying to coax them back into a rhythmic swaying motion again as the music began to pick up pace.

Morgan chuckled softly as he began leading them once more with the tempo of the music, an affectionate hand stroking the back of her head.

"I see" he finally responded. Pulling her back to twirl her around and catch her in his arms.

"You dare even infer that I told you that and you will be sorry." Emily warned, her face serious even though her eyes were twinkling.

Morgan made a 'lock and toss the key' motion against his smirking lips as he looked kindly at the woman in his arms. His warm eyes met hers as he twirled her around again, enjoying this rare moment of normality they were able to share. With their line of work moments such as these were hard to come by. He couldn't even begin to imagine how difficult it would be for Aaron and Emily as a married couple. Trying to navigate around the many downsides of their job.

"You guys are so great together Princess. He's made you so much happier than I've ever known you to be." He began swaying with her more slowly as he tried to convey the seriousness of what he was about to say.

"I know he can be a bit of a drill-sergeant and I assume those personality traits don't just disappear in his personal life but-"

"No they-" he stopped her, putting a finger to her lips and shaking his head slightly.

"_But_ he is so good for you Emily. Be kind to him." Emily gave him a mock scowl but couldn't help but let her features fall into a soft smile. Being an only child, growing up as a misfit with an absent father and a mother who viewed her as a political asset rather than a daughter, she still couldn't believe how lucky she was to have a found a friend so late in life who cared about her happiness and well-being so deeply. She tried to find words to thank him, but there didn't seem to be any that could convey the depth of her emotions. So instead, she leant up and placed a small peck on his left cheek flashing him a smile as he twirled her around again.

The sound of someone rather ungracefully clearing their throat broke them out of their private bubble. Turning around, Emily smiled broadly as she recognised the handsome face before her.

"Roderick!" Emily exclaimed in delight, leaning forward to embrace the tall, fetching man before them.

"Gorgeous and elegant as always." he complimented, his deep British baritone voicing his internal observation as he too twirled her around, shamelessly taking her in at every angle. She slapped him playfully but failed to retain his attention as he suddenly moved past her to where Morgan was standing now seemingly excluded and a little disgruntled.

"I do apologise you must think me rude, I assume you are the famous SSA Hotchner that I have heard so much about? Roderick Fairfax, CIA. So glad to finally put a face to the name." he said, his face apparently deeply apologetic as he held his hand out to the younger man.

Morgan smirked slightly as he took the older man's hand and accepted the gesture. Firm shake, apologetic face. Very British.

"Unfortunately no, I am nowhere near good enough for this beautiful woman," he corrected, gesturing toward Emily as she rolled her eyes good-naturedly at all the flattery.

"Derek Morgan, BAU."

"Oh… you started out at the Chicago PD under Thomas Murphy right?"

"You know him?"

"Yes he is a very old friend. Always had good things to say about you. Thought you had a lot of potential, apparently he wasn't wrong… BAU isn't an easy gig." Roderick complimented, clear respect evident in his voice.

"Well thank you." Morgan replied, at a loss as to how else respond.

Sensing the awkwardness about to settle in if words weren't said in the next few seconds, Roderick came back to his original reason for bothering the couple.

"I don't get to see Emily very much, would you mind if I took her for a spin?" he asked, gesturing to the dancing couples around them as he flashed Emily a warm smile.

"Sure go ahead" Morgan replied. Although he still wasn't sure how he felt about the man before him, the joy on Emily's face was unlike anything he'd seen in the past week, and he didn't want to be the one to rob her of that.

"Thanks, pleasure to meet you." Roderick replied, placing a friendly hand on Morgan's upper arm before turning back toward Emily and leading her toward the main centre of the ballroom.

Morgan stood watching them for a few minutes, seeing Emily giggling away madly as the couple chatted in great animation as they danced. It warmed Morgan's heart to see Emily like that, the pure joy dancing on her delicate features. It was a rare sight. He was however concerned about the man. He was smooth. Too smooth. His hand sat comfortably on Emily's lower back and as the music changed and the tempo slowed considerably, he watched on with apprehension as the man whispered endlessly into her ear, frequently making her giggle and blush. Morgan realised whatever relationship Emily had to this man, it wouldn't serve her well to have Aaron first meet Roderick with her clutched in his arms. He turned on his heel, intent on hunting down Hotch and distracting him for a while.

But he stopped when he caught site of his boss already on the other side of the ballroom. Fists curled as his arms hung rigidly at his side. His usually stoic face was contorted in an ugly way as he watched the offending man run his hands all over his wife's voluptuous body.

Morgan made his way over to Hotch as quickly as he could without making a scene. _He knew that look_. Hotch was about to explode, and if Morgan didn't stop him in the next thirty seconds, nobody would be able to. Halting abruptly in front of his superior just as he had begun to move, he was met with the trademark death glare.

"Move."

"Hotch, don't be an idiot. There are too many people here."

"I'm not going to ask you again." he retorted between clenched teeth.

"Hotch. You need to breathe. I don't like this guy either. But you can't hook this guy in the face while the Director of National Intelligence is dancing with his wife two feet away" Morgan pressed on, stepping closer to Hotch, physically blocking his path.

Despite the fury bubbling up inside him at an alarming rate, Hotch let Morgan's words sink in. Closing his eyes for a moment as he brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he let out a long sigh.

"I though I asked you to watch her." he finally said, sounding slightly defeated.

"I was. But _he_ came up to us, and she knows this guy. She seemed really happy to see him. And he knows of you, he assumed I was you at first." Morgan admitted, choosing his words carefully knowing his boss's current state of calm was due to his incredible self-control, not the sudden disappearance of all contrary emotion.

Hotch silently considered his colleague's words as his eyes flickered once more over to his wife. His eyes burning into her back as he watched the man's hand gradually inch lower and lower into territory it shouldn't be.

"So she _went off _with him" Hotch summarised, his fist clenching once again as he felt a fresh wave of rage overtake his body.

"No man it wasn't like tha-" Morgan quickly tried to explain, placing a firm hand on Hotch's chest trying to stop him moving. But Hotch pushed past him roughly, striding over to his wife who was now being twirled around in the middle of the room.

"There you are darling," he said calmly, catching her mid-twirl and rather forcefully pulling her against him as his arm came to once again possessively encircle her waist. His grip tightened as he felt her body go rigid and saw the deep scowl she shot his way. Placing a kiss on her forehead and ignoring her indignation, he turned his attention back to the offending man, calmly waiting for some form of explanation. When neither man spoke for a solid sixty seconds Emily used all of her inner strength to regain composure and decorum.

"Rod, _this_ is my husband, Unit Chief of the BAU, SSA Aaron Hotchner." Emily said, smiling kindly at her former colleague.

"Honey" she began amicably, though through gritted teeth. "This is Roderick Fairfax of the CIA. We worked together at MI5 in London for two years."

Hotch nodded slowly in acknowledgement of the man, not liking the way in which his wife casually mentioned this part of her life that he apparently knew nothing about. He did vaguely recall her mentioning this period of her life, but she rarely answered any questions about her work before the BAU, so he never bothered to ask them.

"It's such a pleasure to finally meet you Hotchner. I've heard so very much about you," the handsome man said, extending a hand.

Aaron looked at it for a moment before extending his own and shaking firmly. "Wish I could say the same" he replied drily.

Hotch felt Emily's body radiating in his arm and he knew she was seething. But however unclear to _him_ the relationship between this CIA agent and his wife was, what was evident was that she wasn't about to make a scene in front of the man. She smiled politely at Fairfax trying to assure him with her expression that her husband's reply was only some form of twisted dry humour, though the confusion still remained very much etched onto his face.

"He's a barrel of laughs this one." Emily joked patting her husband's stomach, compartmentalising her own emotions at this point for the sake of keeping face with Fairfax.

The CIA agent relaxed his expression, although he didn't reply, choosing to flash her a smile instead.

"Yes well, sorry to break up the reunion but we only just got back from a case this afternoon and she should really be heading up to bed now. We've still got a heap of paperwork to get through in the morning and I need my agents well rested." Hotch interrupted politely, looking at the man with a neutral expression as he stood in front of his wife to make his point.

She was his. And this _reunion_ was now over.

Fairfax tried his hardest to keep his expression neutral as like clockwork the underlying animosity between the trio quickly came to make sense to him. Emily had mentioned to him earlier that she'd just returned home from a particularly trying case and that her husband was in a filthy mood. That coupled with the general knowledge that Hotchner would have to be a strong alpha-male personality type to be a unit chief, he quickly caught onto what had apparently made him so deeply offended.

"Oh of course I completely understand. I myself have to fly out in the morning to Wichita, drug raid" he explained, trying to neutralise the situation.

"Yes well" Hotch began again, turning back toward his wife. "Emily honey, why don't you head upstairs? I'll join you soon I just need to say goodbye to a few more people." His voice sounded soft, and sweet. But his eyes were dark and left no room for argument.

"Sure, that sounds like a good idea." she replied with a soft tone and scorching eyes to match.

She walked past him and over to her friend, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, making sure to linger for a moment just for her husband to see.

"Goodnight Rod, it was so nice to see you again. We'll have to have you and Rosie over sometime for dinner." Emily said loudly, knowing Aaron was listening to her every word.

Rod murmured his agreement and said his goodbyes, going in the opposite direction, linking arms with a delicate redheaded woman who had been chattering away on the edge of the dance floor nearby.

Emily turned on her heel, feeling a mixture of smugness and fury wash over her. She didn't even look at Aaron as she stormed past him and made her way toward the exit of the ballroom.

He watched her leave; his blackening eyes tracing her every move. So what if the British jerk-off was supposedly dating someone else. He had still been running his hands all over _his _wife. He had watched countless men try to run their hands all over her the past week. He had silently observed as they attempted to preposition her. He hadn't commented as she flirted with them too. He knew she had no genuine feelings for them and that she just liked the attention. Attention he wasn't allowed to give her on the field. Attention he wasn't allowed to give her in the office. He scowled.

Tonight she would be his. She would have his attention.

_Whether she wanted it or not._


End file.
